Putting it Together
by carmesdi
Summary: What on Earth was Tesla doing at SCIU? Was he a good boss? Did he really get a corporate jet? What's with "Nikki"? Goes from right after Awakening to post SFN2.
1. If You Can Find Me, I'm Here

**Disclaimer: Sanctuary isn't mine, etc. etc.**

**Prompt: I have looked everywhere for a fic that really covers Tesla's time at SCIU and was really shocked I couldn't find one! So I wrote it! It's fully planned out until after SFN2 so spoilers for the whole show, we'll see if I go past a few "days" after the events of the finale.**

**Timeline: I'm trying to stick to roughly when the episodes aired, so Awakening was mid May, Into the Black through the events of Uprising is early June, etc.**

**Naming: See end section**

Chapter 1 – If You Can Find Me, I'm Here

Nikola Tesla was a vampire again and he felt abso-fricking-lutely incredible.

Of course, the events leading to his resurrection could've gone better. He hadn't liked getting a laser to the gut, and he'd passed out without getting to see Helen go postal on that crystal to get Afina's blood. Also, Afina had been kinda a bitch. Finally, Helen had destroyed the Hollow Earth map, which, while admittedly had been a genius and touching move to save his life, was also quite the unfortunate loss.

But he was back. Back to his immortal, eternal, constantly healing, indestructible self. He'd even kept the magnetic abilities, which was a bonus. While the electricity had been useful in more direct ways, a few months of mortality had led to some clever applications of his magnetism. Plus, the jokes were funnier.

He'd left the Sanctuary after Helen was called away over some kind of… worm-thing. He hadn't really been paying attention, it'd been dull, and almost the whole crew had left to go chase after it. Now it was time to get back to his work.

His work. Right. Well….

He'd spent the last few months with only one focus, restoring his vampirism. Before that, he'd been focused on the kiddie vampires in Mexico, and before that he'd been working on his thralls and avoiding the Cabal.

Mulling over the events of these last few years lead to a rather painful conclusion, one he would not tell a soul, not even the lovely Dr. Helen Magnus. He simply couldn't bear to see her smirk.

_I need to stop trying to revive Sanguine Vampiris._

After all, where had it gotten him? His thralls had been dumb and thoughtless, almost killing Helen before he could stop them. (_He really hadn't meant "kill" kill her…_ ) The vamp tykes had showed him just how dangerous it was to recruit from the current "ruling class", entitled upstarts that they were. It was becoming more and more clear to him that any vampires he made wouldn't be guaranteed to follow his line of thought and he just wasn't a team player.

As for other vampires that might be in stasis… Afina had left a rotten taste in his mouth that had only been washed away by several glasses of Merlot. The nerve she had, calling him a mongrel. He had helped her, attempted to smooth things between her and Helen, and she had rejected him as a fake, a mutt.

Worst of all, she'd compared him, negatively, to "pure-blood" vampires. Helen often teased that he was only part-vampire, but she did it to remind him of his, well, humanity; she didn't think of him as somehow less of a vampire. Afina's reaction to him had stirred up old wounds, carved into him by a century of watching humans kill each other over superficial labels. No matter what Afina claimed, she really was no better, and he was starting to doubt that other vampires would be any different.

So here he was, back. Back to his full potential, but with all of his work from the last few years discarded. What should he do?

He nearly laughed out loud at that thought, which would've disrupted the atmosphere of the quiet yet lavish Parisian restaurant whose wine stores he was currently depleting.

The great Nikola Tesla, with inventor's block. That simply would not do.

He still had not gotten a chance to see Hollow Earth, and he'd barely scratched the surface of the map before Helen had destroyed it. Yet he'd found the technology disturbingly advanced; he doubted whether he could just start hacking his way through the copy of her database he'd swiped on his way out. He certainly couldn't go there himself, not with his vampire status restored – Helen had had a hard enough time with that, even with Gregory's assistance.

So where did that leave him? Well, the Praxian tech he'd spent the most time on had been Adam's teleportation nodes, though at the time he'd been focused on the radiation output that had made Helen sick…. Maybe if he focused on how the device achieved the teleportation effect…

And how as it powered anyways? He and Henry hadn't discovered that either. Perhaps, if it was organic tech, it used some biological form of internal energy production…

Also, Adam had been a chemist, not a biologist nor an engineer. How had Adam built the damn thing anyways? Had he stolen it? Who from?

It was lucky that he'd taken one of the nodes from the Sanctuary.

Well, perhaps not "lucky" per se. What's one of dozens anyways?

Now he just needed to get to one of his many hidden labs and acquire some supplies…

* * *

Scientific discovery is a powerful, time-altering drug, especially in the hands of a vampire. Before Nikola got around to checking in on the world outside his lab, it had decided to come knocking on his door – and it brought its checkbook.

* * *

**So, that's my starting point! Hope the writing style is all right. I won't be straying from Tesla's perspective so it's a mix of third person narration and inner monologue.**

**Naming: **I put this here instead of the top because it's a bit long. Basically, in my head, Tesla is the epitome of the classic, cultured Manhattan bachelor, which means he must be a Stephen Sondheim fan. If you aren't familiar with Sondheim's musicals, this isn't a songfic, don't worry! But as I planned out this story (yes, it's planned!) some of his song titles were just perfect fits for the chapters, so I couldn't resist. I'll explain them at the end of each chapter, for anyone who's curious.

**"Putting it Together": **Probably the most meta, semi-autobiographical song ever, it's all about what it takes for an artist to create in the modern world. Tesla's self-centered enough to see his job at SCIU as simply part of "the art of making art", or in this case, "the art of making dangerous rift-tearing energy generators".

**"If You Can Find Me, I'm Here": **A poet decides his genius isn't properly being appreciated by the crass, boorish world and goes into seclusion to focus on his work. Sound familiar?

**Reviews are awesome!**


	2. You Gotta Get a Gimmick

**Apologies for the delay. My muse only strikes when I should be working and I was on Spring Break for two weeks so... Not much writing got done. But now I'm back so there will be lots of work to avoid and therefore lots of writing. Reviews, positive or not, are always welcome. **

Chapter 2 – You Gotta Get a Gimmick

The harsh cry of the buzzer echoed through his laboratory. Nikola barely stirred, eyes fixed on the screen of the laptop in front of him. He simply waited for whoever was at the door to double check and realize they were at the wrong address.

Silence. Then the buzzer rang out again, this time twice. Someone was both lost and impatient. He ignored them.

A third time, and a bang on the door this time, caused Nikola to finally check the calendar and make sure it wasn't his weekly wine delivery. He was mildly surprised that it was now Tuesday and not Sunday, which was when he'd last checked, but since the wine was not due until Friday, he remained in his chair.

Finally, a fourth time the buzzer rang, this time pressed again and again, over and over, like a ten year old boy playing a prank on his neighbor. Nikola snarled, stood up from his desk, and strode across the room.

It did not take long – this particular lab had actually started out as just a nice Parisian apartment he maintained, but he'd been loath to leave this divine city, and he was not at the construction stage of his project where he required more space than a desk and computer. Plus, there were no Sanctuaries or UN facilities in the city; London was close enough for Helen to monitor France, and by the time the UN got their act together, there wasn't a single reasonably priced square foot of land to be found.

Clearly he'd missed something because if his lab was as unobtrusive as he thought and he hadn't blown anything up yet, there was nothing to warrant the angry buzzing at the door.

"WHAT?!" he yelled as he threw open the door, nearly taking it off its hinges. He quickly looked over the source of his irritation, a mid-30s man in a black, cheaply made, two-piece suit, wearing sunglasses despite the rather cloudy weather outdoors.

"Sorry, um, … Dr. Tesla?" said the man, eyes wide, with some hesitation, as though he were really, really hoping Nikola would say "Nope, try the nice guy with cookies two blocks over!" His accent was so American it hurt Nikola's ears.

"Whatever the US Government wants the answer's no." The man's identity was no mystery once he opened his mouth. The "Men in Black", while in reality not as suave as portrayed in pop culture, were an unfortunate cliché the CIA had never quite shaken.

"But, sir, you haven't heard- I mean, so you are him? Um, wait, I didn't say I was with-" the man spluttered, trying to remember protocol and procedure, sweating profusely. Nikola simply glared at him, feeling no sympathy for the poor fool who had been ordered to interrupt his work.

The man kept on sputtering, some nonsense about duty and obligation. Nikola quickly grew bored.

"Get to the point, man, before you die of hyperventilation."

This seemed to shock the man into silence. He paused and then began from the start, rattling off an obviously prepared speech.

"Doctor Tesla. Given recent events, The United States of America is actively recruiting scientists such as you to help predict, prepare for, and neutralize abnormal threats to the country, its people, and the world. We are willing to negotiate an agreement that will provide substantial compensation for your efforts."

The man blinked once; then again, shocked he'd been allowed to finish his spiel. Nikola looked at him, right hand still gripped on the doorknob, and responded curtly.

"1) No. 2) Not a chance in hell. … And also, 3) If you show up on my doorstep again, I will bash your head into that damn buzzer so many times you'll hear it every time you blink."

And with that, Nikola slammed the door shut, walked across the room, back to his desk, and sat down.

_What recent events?_

He had some catching up to do….

* * *

It took all of five minutes for him to hack into the Sanctuary mainframe. Heinrich was really slipping; either the boy had a new girlfriend (unlikely) or something had the young pup distracted. He soon found that it was the latter.

Pouring over the data, Nikola was shocked to see what he'd missed over the last few weeks.

Praxis was destroyed and Abnormals fleeing the wreckage had swarmed the surface, sending the U.N. and every nation into panic mode. Refugee camps were being established. Somehow the media had been entirely suppressed, but behind closed doors every major government was on edge. Heads were butting, and it looked like the Sanctuary Network was not enjoying its usual oversight-free support. No wonder the US Government had had the balls to send one nervous, sweaty agent to knock on Nikola Tesla's door.

Nikola read further, eyebrows rising, for once non-sarcastically, by the minute.

_Adam Worth: Confirmed dead_

_John Druitt: Suspected dead_

_Gregory Magnus: Suspected dead_

_Helen Magnus: Missing temporarily, recovered_

The first line was comforting. The next two were interesting, but Nikola learned long ago that once someone makes it to 120, "suspected dead" meant "no body" and "no body" really meant "almost definitely not dead". He didn't dwell; if either men lived he was sure to run into them only at the most inconvenient time anyways. The last line concerning Helen was puzzling, but a few more keystrokes revealed her to be in good health and presently situated back in the Old City Sanctuary.

He also noticed that _he_ had not received any pings from the Sanctuary Network. Whatever was terrifying the world's leaders must in actuality be of little consequence – if something truly serious were happening, Helen would've attempted to contact him already.

He sat back in his chair, hands curled behind his head, pondering what he had just read.

The governments of the world were scared and looking for people with answers, and given their history, were likely willing to pay for results. He really didn't want to bother with having to avoid government goons for the next few months, not when he had just gotten back to being himself. Besides, they would be easy enough to impress even if all he did was build them a basic stunner, and he knew how to avoid being questioned over his receipts by waving the "what part of I'm a genius don't you understand?" card. It'd worked on Will, no problem. In fact, the US Government was currently full of mini-Will's to mock and swindle.

However, the last few times he'd been employed by the lovely U.S. of A. he had thought similar things, and later regretted his choices immensely. Perhaps he should just lie low for this one.

He was curious to see whom they'd send next – two tough-as-nails military types or a young, sexy thing in a slinky red dress with a nice bottle of red...

* * *

To Nikola's disappointment, by Thursday he was not only out of wine, but seated at his desk with three rather dull administrators of some kind sitting across from him. However, they did have somewhat more eloquence then the first hapless MIB from Tuesday and the second two Air Force majors (he was pleased to have called that one) on Wednesday.

He was also becoming more concerned over Helen's apparent blasé attitude. They were outlining some rather extensive plans that the lovely doctor would not be pleased to hear. True, the UN had worked with private contractors that weren't always at good terms with the Sanctuary Network, but individual countries had never attempted what was being pitched to him right now.

This "Specified Counter-Insurgency Unit", despite a name so bad even he could do better, was a truly daunting attempt to muscle in on the Sanctuary Network's market share. They were proposing several facilities, all over the United States, attempting to master Helen's life work in the span of weeks. Abnormal capture and study, technology development, experimentation; they truly wanted it all, and didn't want to ask nicely for it. They already had personnel lists a mile long, and he shuddered to think why even a quarter of these people had not been on Helen's MVP list.

He made demands, wild demands. He demanded a full private laboratory with no oversight of any kind. He demanded complete control of facility security. He demanded fully stocked wine cellars, a private jet, and a private deluxe loft attached to the facility itself. He demanded an outrageous salary, and when they consented, he demanded additional living costs and lab supplies that they consented to as well.

They never told him no. He was welcome to say no, but this was not a just-for-him opportunity they were proposing. This was going ahead no matter what, with the full force of panic, paranoia, and self-importance that only Americans could muster. They simply hoped he could be tempted along just like everyone else, with money, and money, and more money.

Helen would be furious if he said yes. But as shifty as the American government was, if they held to even a fraction of these promises, he would be in research paradise for the few months before she found out and shut them down. At the very least, with him in control of one facility it would be mostly tech R&D and the Abnormals they brought in would be relatively well treated, and not experimented upon. He could ensure that much.

With their resources, he could start his Praxian tech project off properly. No late-night, bad-part-of-town, black market deals, no slow stockpiling of restricted materials so as not to arouse suspicion. And none of it would be paid for out of pocket. Heck, he'd be set for the next few decades if he managed to keep this job for half a year.

The talking suits noticed the shift in his disposition as they kept agreeing to his demands. At least they realized what a coup he would be. They'd probably all get promotions. He felt his previous concern and guilt slip away as he began to plan out his lab space.

After all, palladium is rather expensive…

He wasn't the idiot he had been all those years ago with Edison. He'd make sure he got every penny out of them on paper, and then he'd take them to the cleaners for all the rest of it.

* * *

**Saphyr88 – My hero for reviewing! Glad you like it. Going one step further, in my head cannon I'd like to believe there's a reason Sondheim makes such a big deal in Sweeney Todd about Johanna's pretty blonde hair. The "Demon Barber of Fleet Street" is a British urban legend separate from Jack the Ripper, but the similarities are fun, yes?**

**FindingLight – Thanks so much, I will! Slowly but surely.**

"**You Gotta Get a Gimmick": From the musical Gypsy, the context isn't really key (since it's sung by burlesque strippers in the 1930s...) but the lines are amusing. One of the strippers uses light up lingerie, leading to the bit, "I'm electrifyin, and I ain't even tryin. I never have to sweat to get paid, cause if you got a gimmick, Gypsy girl, you got it made." :)**


	3. Gossip

Chapter 3 – Gossip

"I heard that the new guy in charge is ex-Sanctuary. You know, the guy who tried to toss out Magnus - Wexford."

"No way! Really? I heard the guy was ex-Cabal. Someone who got asylum with the NSA when the whole group was getting wrecked."

"He? Ha! I heard it was a woman! And SHE isn't either, been hiding away in like, Nepal, or something doing super secret research this whole time."

"Nuh, uh. The got the guy who's been running that little scientist-only town out in Oregon…. what was it called, again, um-"

"Eureka!" rang out, and eyes quickly darted across the cafeteria to the one person awkwardly rummaging in their briefcase. Eventually, he found what he was looking for.

"Shit, sorry, guys forgot to turn my cell phone off."

The employees of Area 51 quickly lost interest and went back to discussing their new boss.

"What if they somehow, like, cloned Magnus' brain and stuck it in a computer program? Then programed it to optimize running this place?"

"Dude, come on. This is real life, not some sci-fi show."

"Plus, you totally ripped that off from last night's Wormhole X-treme episode…"

* * *

"So let me get this straight. No one is going to believe that I am, in fact, Nikola Tesla, but they will totally believe that I am his grandson, also called Nikola Tesla?"

If it weren't so very undignified, Nikola would've rolled his eyes. S.C.I.U. had been happy to meet all his demands for this job but for some silly reason insisted that he take on a fake name. They hadn't liked Baumschlagger and there was no way he was burning any of his other aliases for the sake of the US Government.

Nikola had proposed simply using his own name, which had not gone over so well. Before the current suit (he couldn't keep these administrators straight) had time to launch into another lecture, he countered with one of his own.

"They are here to research Abnormals - finding out that their boss is a genius and immortal shouldn't be too much of a shock for them. If they can't handle it, tell them it's a code name before you fire them for being small-minded, unimaginative morons."

He hadn't actually expected that to work, but when the suit didn't respond, he realized that he'd won the argument.

However, something else came to mind as he was enjoying his victory. Curiosity killed the cat, but….

"To what extent are the researchers here to be aware of the… nature of my abnormality?" Nikola feigned uncertainty, hoping to coax out some additional insight.

He had hacked the S.C.I.U. database, which had pathetically bad security, something that would be an easy enough fix once he was in charge, and been amused by the result. They actually had no idea he was a vampire; he had the same Abnormal label as Helen – _"genetically-altered humanoid with extended longevity."_ Clearly they'd never made sense of the notes that had been illegally seized upon his "death".

"Well. Um. " The administrator stumbled a bit before regaining his footing, clearly not expecting the question to come up. "Ah, well, that depends. We weren't actually aware how you and Dr. Magnus came to such … traits."

Disappointed by such inelegant prying, Nikola smoothly lied, giving the simplest, and most useless, retelling of events. "Both of us held a natural recessive genetic code that was triggered somehow by exposure to the variety of Abnormals we studied over the course of our early work. With so many factors, and such a long delay before we noticed the effects, we never did figure out quite what caused it."

This satisfied the administrator, who quickly suggested Nikola simply say it was an unforeseen side effect, going on to explain that "it just wouldn't do" to have the scientists distracted by ideas of self-experimenting their way to immortality. Nikola found his acceptance of the story rather amusing. These people really were a bunch of pushovers.

* * *

He was "presented" to his new employees with all the pomp and circumstance of a government funded research center that didn't technically exist. Everyone was herded into some large space with a hastily constructed small platform against one wall. The head administrator, whose name turned out to be Greg Addison, gave some dull speech about patriotism and duty and innovation and "the good of society". Eventually, he turned to where Nikola was standing, unobtrusively in a corner of the room, waiting for the moment of his grand entrance.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Addison said with a rather unwarranted amount of pride in his voice, "I am pleased to introduce the man who will be the director for this facility, Dr. Nikola Tesla!" He swept a hand out to gesture to Nikola, who strode a step forward, drawing the eyes of the crowd to him, but made no move to get up on the stage.

Murmurs and whispers ran rampant through the cloud, as everyone waited for Addison to explain such an absurd statement. To his credit, Addison continued without hesitation.

"I know what you're thinking, but I assure you that this man is indeed the same one responsible for the development of the AC current, the radio, and many other irreplaceable aspects of the modern era! You are here to study abnormal beings with extraordinary abilities; surely it does not come as too much of a surprise that one of the greatest geniuses is human history stumbled upon a way to prolong his life?"

Nikola briefly resented the phrase "stumbled upon" but quickly corrected himself. That was the story he was spinning after all. He focused back on Addison as the man continued to pontificate.

"Now, I encourage each and every one of you to seize upon the opportunity before you. Each and every one you should strive each day to push the boundaries of human ingenuity and explore the very fringes of science. With that, please welcome, your new director – Nikola Tesla."

This time his name was met with a round of exuberant applause, something he had missed since the times of the World's Fair. He strode towards the stage, stepping up easily, and turned to face the crowd before him.

* * *

For an instant, he found it exceedingly odd to be presenting himself and not his work, but he saw the curious eyes of the crowd and realized that he was, in their eyes, already quite the miraculous result of science. He relaxed and slipped into an old, familiar role – the showman.

"Ah, thank you very much indeed for that welcome. I suppose you're all expecting the mustache, and I am terribly sorry to disappoint but it went out of style sometime in the 1930s."

He paused at this, and was somewhat pleased to hear a small laugh circle through the room. He decided, though, that it was best to get the point; he was not courting patrons, he was demanding the respect of underlings – really, he should treat them like Helen's wolf-pup. The image this thought evoked, of an entire room full of Heinrich clones desperate for scraps of attention, with all that hero worship the boy never quite managed to hide, made him smile briefly.

"I'll keep this brief. I have never intended to rest upon my laurels, no matter how impressive, and I am here because I intend to make full use of the resources of this facility. I expect those of you doing scientific research to do so as well, and those of the supporting staff to understand that you are assisting in one of the most important works of this era. My door is not open for you to come to me with your problems or excuses, and I will hold no one's hand. However, science strides forward through creativity and risk-taking; let no aspect of 'common sense' or 'general knowledge' dictate your ideas. Failure is undesirable, but stagnation is far worse. Now, let's begin."

He briskly walked off the stage and out of the room, down the halls that were already becoming familiar, to his new office. It wasn't until he poured a celebratory glass of Bullet that he realized he had ended his speech with a tweaked version of one of Helen's favorites.

For a moment, he could imagine she was standing just behind his chair. He closed his eyes and almost felt her hands resting on his arms, her brunette waves floating over his shoulders, brushing his cheeks. He could almost hear her lovely voice, British accent at full strength, whispering in his ear.

"Shall we begin?"

* * *

After Nikola left, the room buzzed with excitement and confusion. People were beginning to cluster into small groups, trading factoids and faintly remembered history.

"Wait, wasn't he like crazy? OCD, germaphobe, number three, all that stuff?"

"Yeah man, plus he was scared of women!"

"Was not! He was celibate, not misogynistic; the man was actually inspirationaly feminist for the times!" The woman who said this blushed as her group's focus came to rest on her.

"Jeez, you're a fan girl." "Am not!" "Are too!" "Grow up!"

"How do you think he became immortal?" "Dude, man was a master of electricity and magnetism." "That's not an answer."

"Do you think he'll sign my Electricity and Magnetism textbook from grad school? He's on the cover, it would be sooo cool!"

Eventually, the conversations became more and more speculative, as people got over the impressiveness of their new boss, and started to wonder why exactly he was their new boss.

"You know, he's old like Helen Magnus. Think he knows her?" "Well, duh, he must know her, but I think he grew up in, uh… Romania, right? And then worked in New York City, so he wouldn't have met her, I think."

"Come one, no way it's a coincidence that they're from the same time period, I bet they worked together."

"Worked together or…?"

"Wait. Magnus has a daughter right? You don't think…."

"Whoa, whoa, no way he'd be here if he was that cozy with Magnus. Things are going south with the Sanctuary Network and the UN – why do you think they made such a big deal of starting this place up?"

"Right, so then, why's he here? Money?"

"..."

"Hell, it's why I'm here."

* * *

**Feel free to submit your own bits of "gossip" that might echo through the halls of SCIU – if it's good, I'll add it in somewhere in the fic (and cite you of course!). And yes, I don't know expensive wine, but I do know expensive Bourbon. He drinks brandy with John in the Season 2 premiere, so I figured he'd celebrate a big event with something more than his regular red. (Who knows what SCIU had in their cellar before he took over?)**

**Couldn't help a shout out to certain TV shows, hope it didn't get too crackfic-y. They aren't established in-universe, and this is meant to stay cannon. Also, I noticed a bit of a plot hole – Addison starts as UN, but then somehow becomes both FBI (recruits Will) and also SCIU, which are both American organizations. Anyone have an explanation? I'm just assuming SCIU upgrades him to full-time after "Untouchable". (We're still pre-Untouchable right now)**

**"Gossip": **From Sunday in the Park with George, about the painting of "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Latte". All the figures in the painting begin to gossip about each other as well as the artist, George Seurat. They are everything from apathetic and condescending, to scandalous, and even idolizing, fitting for this chapter's focus.


	4. Lovely, Pretty Women

**A/N: Apologies haven't been in the right headspace for this (and pre-Resistance is tough!). But it's about time Nikola meet a certain someone…**

Chapter 4: Lovely, Pretty Women

The first week had been bearable. Everyone had come by to shake THE Nikola Tesla's hand and say what big fans they all were, which had been quite fun the first 50 times. A few had come by with forms for him to sign, which was amusing because they seemed to mostly have these forms on paper than could transfer ink to another source, like, say, something from the 1920s. He made a note of those people – they deserved promotions. After all, several Tesla "artifacts" quietly auctioned off here and there had paid for his work most of the way through the 90s.

In fact, one time a certain British doctor had tried to track down the mysterious source of these sudden rare finds… Nikola smiled at the thought, Helen had been dangerously close to tracking him down in Hong Kong. He had only managed to avoid her because his latest vampire creation had trashed his lab two days before he found out about of her arrival. It had made packing and leaving much more efficient.

He had also been amused by the few scientists who had stumbled in awkwardly clutching their electricity and magnetism textbooks from college or biographies of his life. He signed the textbooks, but not the biographies – it didn't do to reward incorrect work.

* * *

Nikola's research did not proceed at the pace he was used to. He was constantly being interrupted by forms that had to be signed, calls that had to be taken, meetings that needed attending, and projects that needed signing off on. He found the whole thing incredibly tedious, and wondered how Helen put up with all this nonsense.

People just could not seem to be able to do anything on their own. The scientists had mostly taken his first day speech to heart; having, for the most part, been through the rigors of graduate school, they were comfortable with the idea of only showing up with either results or productive questions.

On the other hand, the administration of the whole facility was monstrous. Though he was in name the facility director, he still found himself directly answering to Addison and his other fellow busybodies. They wanted to start "bagging and tagging" as he had heard Zimmerman once call it, but they had no plans in place for the bagging or the tagging. In fact, they barely seemed to agree on which ones were targets; it was eventually decided, as all things, to only go after those which were "immediate threats" to the human population or "national security". After the 10th meeting spent listening to them yammer on about building cages and scheduling feeding for these as-of-yet un-captured fiends, he had told them point blank that he was there for the research, and the research alone.

Addison's people had moaned and complained, so he handed them a primitive stunner design. It was very simple compared to the ones that Foss built. It wouldn't even knock a person unconscious, simply disorient them briefly, but Tesla was confident that they could turn it on the most hapless victim and not manage to cause permanent damage. Addison had been dissatisfied, muttering something about Sanctuary tech, but had accepted the explanation that Tesla was not used to designing weapons for general use with no specific targets. Tesla found his acceptance of the explanation rather insulting, but was happy to finally be let off the hook for Abnormal containment meetings.

* * *

Even without the extra meetings, Nikola still struggled to find uninterrupted time to work on his project with the Praxian nodes. He had no intention of telling SCIU what they were truly capable of. Instead, he took over the gigantic space where they had introduced him the first day and declared it his personal lab. He had then had a blast shield installed, cutting the room in half, and had it scrubbed of all electronics and sealed off from the rest of the lab, declaring it a clean room for experimental weapon testing. Now the only access was through a small door in the shield, which appeared to be a keypad, but was actually a lock that only Nikola could operate through the use of his magnetic abilities. It was a perfect, private lab, nestled in the very center of the sprawling SCIU complex.

However, in order to avoid suspicion, he did most of his work in the first half of the lab, under the watchful but ignorant eye of Big Brother. It was tempting to simply do all of his work at night when no one would disturb him, but knew that was exactly what suspicious eyes might expect. Instead, he ran the tests on the node in small intervals, appearing to take in a prototype weapon, and re-emerge an hour or two later with a new set of "promising but not conclusive" data. It was slow, but it was working.

* * *

He had been at the SCIU facility for nearly a month when his late night solitude was disrupted by a new arrival.

Nikola had become stuck on the latest results from the node. He had determined the "input" and "output" ports on the device, where power was configured to go in as electric current, which was convenient (and probably a modification made by Adam), but was output as some sort of steadily generated field. Without a "receiver" node, teleportation was impossible; on its own, the field generated by his node would simply be an impressive light show. He had managed to turn the device on with a little bit of cleverness, a lot of wires, and a forgiving power grid, and in the end it only consumed as much energy as an average laptop.

However, between the temperatures the device heated to when activated, the (non-lethal) amounts of radioactive particles produced, and the maintenance of the field, all his calculations suggested that it was using more energy than was input. It was vastly infuriating to be stuck on so simple a problem as energy conservation, and not even being on his third bottle of red was soothing his wounded pride.

It was then that some poor fool made the moronic choice of knocking on the half-opened door to his lab. Having learned his lesson about ignoring government employees on doorsteps, he didn't stir, but let out a quick, "What is it?"

Taking this as an invitation, which they really shouldn't have, Nikola heard the door creak open as whoever it was walked in – on heels, judging by the sound they made on the linoleum floor. Nikola turned around in his chair, still holding onto his most recent glass of red.

The intruder was a woman in her mid 30s, with bright red hair tied in a low messy ponytail behind her head. She was wearing what might have started out as formal business attire, but was rather mussed and disheveled - a frilly white blouse combined with a stark black jacket and slacks. In her left hand she had a bulging briefcase and the other was outstretched as she walked towards him.

"Dr. Nikola Tesla, yes? I'm so sorry to bother you, I've only just arrived, and I thought I should meet you straight away. I'm Dr. Jeannine Coates, I've been brought in to head up the Abnormal studies division of the facility. I don't mean to step on any toes, but Addison assured me you would appreciate someone taking care of the, how did he say it, 'less techy' aspects."

Huh. He had not been expecting that. Nikola stood up and shook her hand, gesturing for her to sit down. He offered her wine, which she accepted (another mark in her favor), and after he poured her a glass in one of his spares, he sat down as well.

"Well, Dr. Coates, you are quite the gift, especially in that wrapping."

She blushed slightly and took a sip of the wine. "Thank you, I just hope I can be of assistance. I suspect that I was not invited her to be a researcher like yourself."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, my specialty is organic chemistry, not exactly the key science when you're dealing with a facility full of Abnormals. I just finished my contract at a large pharmaceutical company managing a research team of 50, so I suspect that's the skills I've been courted for."

Nikola let out a small sigh of relief at that. He had not spent the last 150 years learning nothing form his mistakes, and a gift as nice as this one always had strings attached. Had she shown up with long brown hair, an accent, and an MD and PhD in evolutionary biology and genetics, he would've been highly suspicious of his employer's motives.

However, a pretty chemist stuck as shepherd to all his underlings? One who knew just enough about his research to be impressed, who ooh-ed and aah-ed over the simple things he showed her that was working on for SCIU's sake? This was Christmas in July.

It had been a long day for Jeanine, and when she left soon after the second glass of wine, Nikola, ever the gentleman, walked her to the door of his lab.

"It has been a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Coates. I'm sure this facility is now in quite capable hands."

"Thank you Dr. Tesla that's very kind, but I'm sure it was like that well before I got here! Oh, and –" She wrinkled her nose slightly, though whether an act of gathering focus in her current wine-drive haze or the steeling of confidence, Nikola didn't know, "- call me Jeanine!"

She looked up at him, and seemed to be contemplating something, but Nikola was not one to take advantage of an inebriated coworker on her first day.

"Alright, Jeanine. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!"

* * *

**You thought she was going to say Nikki didn't you? Mwahaha. Also, anyone notice that Nikola seems to know Coates rather well in Resistance, but ****not**** in SFN2? We'll see why…**

**"Lovely": **From "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum", sung by a girl who can't do anything at all, but at least she's pretty! (Amusingly, there's a line "Helen and her thousand ships would have to die of shame", referring to Helen of Troy)

**"Pretty Woman"**: From Sweeney Todd (not in the movie), it seems shallow, but it's actually a remarkably deep song about how men idealize women. I didn't like this song until I read a piece about it by none other than Joss freakin Whedon.

**I thought both were fitting since we know absolutely nothing about her except that she's attractive and she thinks Tesla and Magnus are amazing.**

**If they ever established a first name for Coates and I missed it, let me know. I first misread the actresses name on the wiki as hers, hence Jenn became Jeanine, and it stuck in my head cannon. Also, the actress is a good few years younger than Ryan Robbins - weird, huh?**


End file.
